15
Tuesday, June 6, 2006 – 10:41 a.m.
Aspen Memorial Hospital – Medical Supply Room
Rows of medical supplies lined the shelves of the supply room. Bandages, needles, rubber tubing, towels, drugs, gauze, IV bags, catheters, trays of sterile instruments and more. These items were in constant demand, whether it is for the average Joe lying in some room due to dehydration or for some poor ER trauma victim just brought in due to a multiple car pile-up on the freeway. Every day supplies left this room and every day supplies entered. Trying to keep track of the inventory could be a daunting task, especially with so many nurses and aides coming and going. For Slick, however, the task was a challenge. He loved keeping track of what was going on in this room. In fact, that was his job and he was good at it. He was an organizer, a man who had the ability to keep things in order and who knew what was needed and where it was as soon as someone asked. A few years back, Slick had been hired as the supply room supervisor because of his abilities. Being tall also helped. Since the shelving had been placed clear to the ceiling, it could be rather difficult for someone of short stature to reach the top shelves. Slick had no problem doing so. At six foot one, his reach was easily over eight feet. He had a friendly disposition, always chatting and mixing with everyone who came to “his” room. He knew just about everyone at the hospital since at one time or another he’d had them come by to pick up something for someone.
At 38 years of age, Slick was in good shape. He worked out several times a week, jogged and ate right. His body was fit, his muscles toned and the infamous “gut” of many of his colleagues of the same age was non-existent. His dark hair and dark complexion made him the talk of the females and his suave personality added luster to his image. Slick had never been married, but over the years, he’d had many “friends” of the female gender. Currently, he was not attached, nor interested in anyone. Although he enjoyed flirting with the ladies, at this time in his life, he was too interested in other hobbies to be tied down with someone.
Slick’s name was also unique. Often it prompted questions from others who inquired as to its’ origin. As a kid, Slick had always been a neat Nick. Everything he had was organized, neat and tidy. His own personal bodily hygiene was kept immaculate. He always combed his hair, showered daily and made sure his clothes were clean. Often, other kids would make fun of his obsession, but he didn’t care. He wanted to give the impression of sophistication, of being better than everyone else and he did. Because of his neatness and well-manicured being, he earned the nickname Slick. Having a smooth personality helped too.
Slick glanced at his gold Rolex. The time was 10:41 a.m. Reaching into his pressed and starched lab coat, he pulled out a mint and popped it into his mouth. He ran his hand across his hair to make sure it was in place and then with a confident stride he walked out of the supply room and into the lab. Having heard the bell at the front desk, Slick left his room to answer the call.
“Hey Slick, how’s it going?”
“Good Dan and you?”
“I’m doing great, although I’d rather be outside on this beautiful day.”
“Ah, yes, a wonderful day it is. Your being inside, though, is enabling the ailing ones within our house of hope to have an opportunity for a healthy future.”
“You’re right,” Dan said. “Still, it doesn’t make being here at work any more enjoyable especially knowing that outside is a beautiful day beckoning me to come out and enjoy the sunshine.”
“Well put. But, you do get off at 6:00 p.m. I believe, right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, look on the positive side. You give of yourself for a few hours inside and it makes enjoying the outside even better. At the same time, you’ve perhaps aided an ailing one to regain his health even quicker. Then they too can enjoy the beautiful sunshine outside as soon as their health permits.”
“True, true. Still, the summer seems to disappear all too quickly. It’s just nice to suck up as much of the summer sun as possible before it’s gone.
“Anyway, the reason I came down is because I need a few IV bags for Dr. Slaterbaugh’s patients. We lost a patient this morning and the second patient is unstable. The doc wants to get some fluids started on him just in case.”
“How many do you need?” Slick queried in a confident, soothing voice.
“Three should be enough to start. This patient is huge. Looks like a beached whale. He’s tough looking too. Maybe a Hell’s Angel or something. I’m sure he’ll easily absorb three bags of fluid without even flinching.”
“Easy my friend. Let’s not demean our patients. Everyone has his or her problems. We don’t need to make it worse by name-calling or pre-judging them.”
“Okay, whatever. I wasn’t trying to be rude. I just need the bags.”
“Will do,” Slick said. “Please sign here so I can keep my inventory in order. I should be getting a new order in this afternoon again. It’s important that everything balance in the books. You know how I hate chaos and disorder.” Slick’s face had a condescending look that said ‘You can’t do my job as well as I.’
Dan signed the log sheet without replying and waited while Slick sauntered into the supply room, his tall stature aiding him to take generous smooth strides as he walked. A few moments later Slick emerged, his hands encircling the three fluid-filled bags.
Looking at the log sheet Slick said, “Thank you Dan. I appreciate your business,” as if this were his own personal store. “Come back soon,” he said with a lilt in his voice and a smooth smile etched across his face.
“Don’t worry, we’ll meet again,” Dan said with a smile and a bit of humor in his voice. He then turned and went out the door.
Slick turned to his computer monitor and typed in his password on the keyboard. Pulling up his inventory program, Slick entered the removal of three IV bags. With the stroke of the Enter key, an instantaneous tally showed up at the bottom of the column. The amount that needed to be ordered appeared. Slick smiled. He loved keeping his room in order. It gave him a feeling of euphoria and satisfaction. Slick sat down at his chair and stretched out his legs. Leaning back, he closed his eyes to think.
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Dan stepped out of the elevator on the fifth floor. Walking back to the admitting desk, he set down two of the three IV bags. Picking up the third, he headed for room 507. As he walked across the floor, he noticed the door to room 505 was open. A housekeeper stepped out of the shadows and placed some trash into her cleaning cart. She removed her gloves and discarded them as well. Stepping back from the door, a second housekeeper emerged slowly from the room walking backwards. She was swinging a mop back and forth as she did so. Returning the mop to the bucket of solution on the cart, she picked up a “Wet Floor” sign and placed it in the entry. Removing her gloves, she too discarded them in the garbage container. Dan turned to enter Hank’s room, visions of Benita’s violent death still playing in his head.
Hank was lying in the adjustable bed having inclined it to a 45º angle. The sound of motorcycles blared from the TV. An empty tray sat beside him on the table and condensation from his water glass surrounded it like a bead of silicon. Hank turned and looked at Dan.
Nodding his head, Hank just grunted, “Hmmff.”
“How are you feeling Mr. Maverick?”
“Don’t call me Mr.,” Hank boomed. “Just call me Hank.”
“Okay, Hank, how are you feeling?”
“Fine ‘cept for these watery eyes. I have to keep dabbing them with these here tissues so I can see the stupid TV.” A pile of discarded tissues in and around the garbage can gave testimony to Hank’s statement.
“Sorry to hear that,” Dan replied. “I’ll check and see if there’s anything Dr. Slaterbaugh can do for that. In the meantime, I need to put this IV in your arm and hang up a bottle of fluid for you.”
“Is it filled with beer?” Hank said smiling.
“I’m afraid not. Just some electrolytes and other necessary fluidic substances your body needs to keep healthy.”
“I’d rather have beer.”
“Sorry, I can’t help you out there.”
“How about bringing me a can of beer. No one has to know.”
“I can’t do that! It’s against hospital policy. Besides, you never want to mix alcohol and medicine. It could be a deadly combination.”
“Well, it’d be better to die that way than just laying here in bed rotting away,” Hank sputtered. He grabbed another tissue and wiped his eyes. They fluttered a few times and then cleared.
“Okay, let me get this IV in your arm and I’ll be out of your hair until the techs come up for your CAT scan.”
Hank eyed Dan suspiciously.
“Don’t worry. I’ve done this a thousand times,” Dan reassured Hank. “It’s a piece of cake.”
Hank looked at Dan warily, and laid his left arm next to him on the bed. Reaching over, Dan dabbed the area on the inside of Hank’s arm just opposite his elbow with an alcohol swab. Carefully removing the indwelling catheter from the package, Dan laid it on the table ready to be inserted into Hank’s arm. Taking a piece of rubber tubing, Dan tied off Hank’s arm above the elbow and lightly tapped his vein. As the vein began to bulge from the restricted blood flow, Dan picked up the catheter and carefully angled it so that it slipped almost painlessly into his vein. A slight prick and tiny sting accompanied the catheter. Wincing slightly, Hank looked down at his arm.
“You done already?”
“Yup. I told you I’ve done a thousand of these,” Dan said as he untied the tubing and removed it from Hank’s arm. Dan wrapped Coban, a tape-like substance that wrapped around the arm and adhered to itself, around the catheter to keep it in place so that it wouldn’t move and puncture the wall of Hank’s vein. Hanging the IV bottle on the IV pole, Dan connected the IV tubing to Hank’s arm. Dan adjusted the flow of the bottle to an appropriate level and checked to make sure the flow was moving correctly through the tubing and into Hank’s arm.
An announcer on the TV was screaming something about one of the motorcycles crashing and the other racers having run over him several times. Hank’s attention was arrested by the commotion and he turned to see what was happening.
Dan finished hooking Hank up and checked his vital signs.
“Do you need anything else?”
Hank didn’t respond. He was glued to the TV set.
“Hank, do you need anything else?”
“What?” Hank replied in an irritated voice.
“Do you need anything else before I leave?”
“No, I’m fine.” He turned back toward the TV and then said, “Wait, yes, some more tissues and water.”
“Okay, I’ll get that in here in a few minutes. In the meantime, just relax. If you need to use the bathroom or anything else, let me know.”
“Yeah, fine.” Hank’s eyes never left the TV screen, but they did flutter for a few moments and then began to water again.
Dan picked up the array of tissues that had missed the garbage can as well as the other paraphernalia that was lying on the floor and threw them into the trash. He then turned to leave. Opening the door, he stepped out into the hallway and almost walked into a candy striper walking by.
“Sorry,” Dan said.
“Excuse me,” she said in an embarrassed, sheepish voice. “My fault.”
Stepping around Dan, she continued on her way. Dan shut the door behind him, walked to his desk and picked up the other two IV bottles. He turned and took them into the back room where they would be stored temporarily until he needed them later. Walking back to his desk, he caught a glimpse of the doorway to room 505. Attempting to shake off the vision of earlier, Dan literally shook his head and closed his eyes. He sat down and moved the mouse on his computer. The screen came to life and he began to type.
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